


Over the Face of all the Earth

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-31
Updated: 2004-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tower of Babel seemed like a good idea at the time . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Face of all the Earth

He wandered to and fro in the earth. It was more arduous now that the people weren't all living in one spot. Crowley was regretting the whole Babel incident with every step. Day after day he slogged through deserts or across mountain ranges, just to end up at some oasis campsite or mean little village. He barely had the energy to tempt anyone before he had to be on the move again. He wished for a proper city where he could settle down for a while and rest, but the whole scattering-over-the-face-of-the-world business was too big to ignore, and he'd been very firmly told he had to keep up. At least he didn't have to see the angel every day now; he managed a tired grin at the thought of Aziraphale trekking from place to place and dealing with whatever Crowley had set going.

He made himself take another step and another. Flying would be quicker but it felt important to know the real distance he was travelling, to weigh up the amount of time and effort it had taken people to get where they were going. He saw again the stream of people fleeing away from Babel, families separated, no longer speaking the same language, people desperately calling out in the hope of hearing something they could understand. It seemed like overkill to him; it wasn't as if it had been the people's fault.

He shouldn't have spoken to the king, he thought. He remembered the man's eyes lighting up at the thought of eternal fame, the same easy victory he'd had over so many humans. And this wasn't even a bad scheme, Crowley had thought. No fame as a fratricide or mass murderer this time. Civil engineering had seemed so _harmless_ , so _beneficial_. Even Aziraphale had merely hung round, waiting to see the result and smiling cheerfully at the happy workers. No human now spoke the language the king's name was in. No one would remember him. Crowley thought of the weeping figure he'd last seen in the ruins of the tower, forsaken by all those who'd followed or loved him. No, he shouldn't have spoken to the king.

It had been so tall, so solid. Crowley had stood on the top, looking up, a happy smile on his face as he saw the edge of Heaven within reach. Everyone had been so proud, had worked so hard. It had been perfect.

Aziraphale had pulled him from the wreckage.

Crowley walked on, step by step. If he walked far enough he'd think of some way to make it better.


End file.
